


Coming Out of the Fog

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 07:47:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14397525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: Danny’s been a bit foggy headed for a while, but as he starts to see things clearly again, something new kind of stands out....





	Coming Out of the Fog

**Author's Note:**

> Once more, I’m wanting to write certain things, finding they stall, and stuff like this comes out instead... and still finding it hard to complain too much about that. This one’s a bit rough and only lightly edited, so I can move on to more.... It’s probably a familiar theme and variation, but hopefully nonetheless enjoyable.
> 
> And yeah, I’m behind on watching the show, so shhh please.
> 
> Hope you’re all doing well. <3

It’s just getting light out, sky’s still soft in that way that almost promises the day will be kind, easy. There’s a hint of peace and of promise in the chirping of the birds outside his kitchen window. Breathing into his coffee more than blowing on it, he lets that familiar, comforting scent flood his senses in a way that starts to wake him up, not just from the first almost restful night’s sleep he’s had in what can only be ages, but more than that, it seems to begin to stir something else, something deeper, something more vital... something that feels like it’s been either missing, or just so tired it’s not been engaged, not been paying attention. Everything seems fuller, more colorful, more multi-dimensional. Less flat, less dull, less tainted with the pain and frustration of not sleeping, of the all-consuming-ness of an extended time dealing with an injury. It all takes so much more effort than it used to. But he’s kind of getting used to that, slowly. How hard he has to push to stay on top of things, how easy it is to let so much of it slide. And being okay with that slide has been something he’s fought himself over, a little too much this time (of course all that does is make it harder).

But coffee smells different today. The light outside seems different. His head feels very different. He feels awake, he realizes. Actually awake, as though he might even be functional almost on his own, without endless cups of coffee that actually accomplish nothing and why bother.

He’s not sure how much was the sleep, how much was the stretches he’s taken to doing in the mornings on that yoga mat Grace left, but something’s decidedly different. For one brief moment he considers the possibility that he’s woken in an alternate dimension, a parallel universe—one where the sun is kinder and the coffee stronger—but he dismisses that with a laugh to himself and the thought that maybe he should watch less TV late at night.

As much as part of him wants to sit here as the sun rises, just be with this moment, this new sense of things, this freshness, he also wants to make good use of his brain functionality while it lasts, so he gets up and gets moving.

By the time he gets to work, the sun is up past the mountains and trees and buildings, but still seems slightly softer than it’s been. Some of the aches and pains from his latest round of injuries are creeping back to remind him he’s not as young as he used to be. But under it all, or possibly over it, coating everything in a new perspective, is still that sense that something’s shifted. Even the banyan trees that line the parking lot seem different today; more alive somehow, more _present_. There’s a scent in the air he doesn’t recognize, but then he thinks maybe he doesn’t usually breathe so deeply as he walks from his car to the front door.

Once he’s inside, and not many people are in yet, it’s still on the early side of things, but there’s this slight hum to their activity, just that subtle background not even noise, more just a lack of silence. The usual nods and casual greetings, then the still of the upstairs hall. No one else’s cars were in the lot yet, so he knows he’ll have the office to himself. He used to do that a lot—come in early to have that calm before the rest of the team came in—but it’s been a while. Actually probably since Kono left, because they used to do it together sometimes, and they’d joke about just locking the others out of the office to maintain that calm, productive bubble of getting things done without being disrupted, judged, or otherwise harassed. Danny misses Kono. Kind of a lot. So when he opens his email and sees an update from her, he’s more than happy to take his time and reply more fully and thoughtfully than he usually would allow himself to do. She’ll be happy to hear from him, he knows that, though she never complains when he sends only a “thanks for the update, stay safe” back. He thinks about writing to Chin, checking on Sara, but there’s only so much his brain can handle, and he’ll admit, it’s still hard that they’re gone, hard to be parted from ohana. Promising himself he’ll sit down later and write something out, he turns in the meantime to the frighteningly massive stack of actual papers cluttering his desk.

He can’t have been that long, immersed in the mindless busy work, as he’s not made much progress through the pile, when he sees the outer office lights flicker on, the familiar blur of Steve striding by, followed by the floral tinge of Lou and a little later, two more tentative shapes as Tani and Junior wander almost reluctantly to their offices, lingering a little longer in the hall outside their offices than is strictly necessary. Why that should make him feel _old_ , of all things, he doesn’t know, but it would be nice to have a Five-0 couple. It just seems fitting.

Steve pokes his head in. “Alright there, buddy?”

And it sounds it, but he knows it’s not an idle question. Steve’s been aware Danny’s been off his game—has to be, wouldn’t be a good partner if he wasn’t. He smiles. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”

Looking satisfied, Steve nods, then gestures with his head to the outer office. “We got something, come take a look?”

The day proceeds slowly but productively, leads pan out, false statements are uncovered, and evidence is verified. The more sedate type of case work, a little more thoughtful and deductive than fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants and leap-off-burning-buildings. Less thrilling, less dangerous, but ultimately more intellectually satisfying. The end result is the same, though with fewer shots fired and less of the exploding stuff. Still they are gratified enough to celebrate with a few beers at the big guy’s, and the young ones head off together when Lou and Jerry beg off to head home, leaving Danny and Steve, as frequently happens, the last ones there... for a while alone. They share an order of shrimp and another round of beers, and speculate idly on the nature of the blooming friendship between the kids, both imagining it’ll be Tani who ultimately makes the move rather than Junior.

Steve drifts a little bit in thought after that, and there’s something about the expression on his face that intrigues Danny, but he’s starting to slide back to his own mindful-aware zone from the morning, so he lets Steve be, and they sit side by side in the quiet and enjoy the sunset together... as they so often do.

It’s not till later, when Danny’s home and in bed, that he remembers the look on Steve’s face, and finds himself wondering what was behind it. That seems to re-enliven the thicker, less coherent forms of thinking he’d been drowning in prior to the morning’s clearer certainty, and Danny finds himself feeling a bit lost, a bit bereft, as he staggers, more than drifts off to sleep. It’s not peaceful, it’s not soothing—it’s rough and jagged and completely unsatisfying in a way that almost terrifies him. Except he’s still so tired, so bone deep weary, and it was only a wash of recent sleep glossing over it that got him through the day, but as he lies there, not really sleeping, he just knows the next morning is going to be rough, and he hates himself for it.

But when he wakes, after one of those nights where you wake up every hour on the hour as though it’s some kind of experiment in torture, coffee still tastes better, the light still looks softer... even though he’s not slept anything approaching _well_ , the morning still hints at promise, and he can’t for the life of him figure out why.

Until he gets to the office and sees Steve.

And there’s something about the way he’s standing there, at the tech table, evidently already on something, but not having called anyone else in early, and Danny almost wants to punch him for that—it’s not like he would have suffered for being called out of bed a couple hours early, after all. But there’s some new slant to Steve, something different about his posture, something about his stance, something about the tilt of his head.... Danny feels a little bit like maybe he’s going slightly mad, but he can just tell something’s changed.

And maybe it’s because he’s slightly stupid with lack of sleep, but that thought nags at the back of Danny’s head all day. He watches Steve closely, more closely than usual—not this time looking for warning signs of an idiot with a hero complex about to jump off a building, not looking for grenades hidden in his cargo pockets, but looking instead for some kind of hint as to what’s changed in Steve over the past two days. He watches too closely because first Lou and then Tani catch him watching, and Lou doesn’t really react, but Tani does... just a little grin, which she then sends towards Junior, and maybe that should tell him something, but he’s not sure what.

They have a reasonably normal day. Steve sends Junior and Tani out on surveillance, and he keeps himself and Danny at the office, and Danny knows Steve’s testing them, seeing what the kids are made of, seeing what they get up to on their own. He’s been doing it a lot, and yeah, some of it’s just kind of come in the normal course of cases, but some of it Danny knows Steve’s contrived, and it hasn’t skipped Danny’s attention that he’s doing it for him, for _them_. For their retirement, as though that were a thing Steve might actually join Danny in.

He’s wondered about that, to be honest. Wondered if Steve’s agreeing to the restaurant hasn’t meant he’s agreeing to retirement as well. It’s hard to imagine—nearly impossible to imagine, frankly, that Steve could actually be capable of retiring from anything less than a well placed bullet, but sometimes, on days like this, when Steve gets that glint in his eye and sends the kids off on some at least partly contrived jog around the island, leading them intentionally in wrong directions—Danny’s watching the same intel Steve is, and he’s only lived here eight years, but he knows that was the long way and not at all a shortcut. But when Steve gets that look, Danny can almost imagine Steve might actually retire. While still alive and fully functioning. He’s not going to admit the notion delights him. But it does.

Once the kids are done with their not-quite-wild-goose-chase, and headed back to HQ, Steve pulls Danny into his office, opens them a couple beers, grabs some leftovers from the fridge, and they settle on the sofa to celebrate a day done well.

They’re sitting there like they do so frequently after days like this, Steve’s arm resting not on the sofa but around Danny’s shoulders, Danny leaning into him as though the sofa were a lot smaller than it is, and it’s easy to think it’s just what they do, it’s no big deal, it doesn’t mean anything other than they’re a little too touchy feely and Steve’s mildly controlling. But the thing is. That’s not how it feels tonight. Tonight, for whatever reason he can’t begin to sense, it feels different. He’s not sure what that means, but he has this odd feeling that he likes it. Maybe kind of a lot.

They’re done eating and have assumed less potentially unprofessional positions by the time Tani and Junior get back and brief them on the things they hadn’t mentioned over coms. Seeming exhausted but pleased with themselves, they follow Steve and Danny out to the parking lot to head home. After they drive off, Danny makes some joking comment about Steve pushing them together on purpose and is he using his position to get what he wants, and Steve stills so suddenly in response that it hits Danny like a shock. Steve’s a highly kinetic guy, so stillness usually rings loudly from him, and tonight’s no exception. The look, though, that Steve levels at Danny when he turns around to face him, stills Danny to his bones. He has nothing with which to react, so he doesn’t, and Steve gets in his truck and drives away, leaving Danny still standing there, brain numb, heart beating to the tune of _what the fuck_ and nearly bruising his ribs.

Probably he shouldn’t sleep that night, but for some reason he does, and rather stunningly well to boot, and when he wakes up, the light seems almost painfully bright for as early as it is, and Danny’s head feels heavier than normal, and as he showers before making coffee because the feeling is unsettling, his dreams begin to come back to him in nonsensical flashes that nonetheless manage to convey to him some level of meaning that’s not exactly a coherent thought so much as the realization that he wants to kiss Steve.

He’s pretty sure that’s not something he’s thought before. But for some reason he’s feeling slightly uncertain about that, which feels very odd. It’s something he should be certain about, something that should have rung bells, really, if he’d ever thought before that his best friend and partner in all things was someone who seemed kissable. Someone Danny wanted to kiss.

But he does, and that in itself feels like a very strange thing. Not really something he thinks he’s experienced before, wanting to kiss someone who’s not actually in front of him. Leaning in to someone too close for the first time, being hyper aware of their lips, of the scent of them, of the feeling of your own pulse as you almost hold your breath... and knowing that a kiss is the end game of the moment, that’s one thing. But waking up after a night of weird sleep, feeling all funny in the head in your shower before you’ve even had coffee and suddenly being almost over-full with the notion of kissing someone who you’ve been not-entirely-platonic with for eight years, someone you’ve never had one of those moments of the almost kiss with... someone you’ve admittedly done far more intimate things with, like donate parts of your body, or have parts of his inside places in you that other people really should not go.... Suddenly, out of the blue, for no reason whatsoever.

Only.... It’s not really out of nowhere, is it. And it’s not for no reason. Maybe it’s more for all the reasons he’s ignored over the years, and maybe it’s not been hard to ignore them, maybe that kinetic energy’s been the thing that’s actually kept it from being hard, because it just runs all over everything, never settling for very long on one thing, moving ever onwards, distracted by the next case, the next threat, the next adventure. But something about the clarity Danny’s felt, and something about that moment of stillness from Steve. It’s like they’ve joined together and, combined, made some kind of solution, and it’s dissolved something inside him, or maybe over the top of him, maybe a coating that’s kept those sofa touches being just that. Kept those close moments controlled—in an easy and relaxed and totally comfortable, melting into it way... but controlled.

Well that control seems to have just gone now, and that, he realizes, is the funny feeling in his head. It’s almost like that point where you’re about to be drunk, but you’re still totally sober, or think you are, and you know—one more drink, and I’m gone, possibly in a not-good-way. That’s what it feels like, this swimming inside his head, this really strange creeping sensation inside his bones, like something’s coming to life within him, something transformative, something life altering.

Which makes sense, because think about it, kissing Steve is going to change everything, and that’s the thing, because there’s not even a fraction of a thought of “am I?” It’s already a done deal in his head. But it is, going to change everything, that is. And he’s fairly certain that he doesn’t care, and not just because he feels like about five minutes away from just walking away from that part of his life, the part with the gun and the badge and the body armor and the fast car. He’s fairly certain that he doesn’t care because he’s fairly certain that really, truly, when it comes down to it, they’ve both known this was the end game. And for a very long time.

And that, more than the rest of it, that’s the part that’s almost too hard to take.

Because they may be close to retirement, but they’re not there yet, and it’s just too much a thing, isn’t it, that whole “days away from retirement, cop killed in the line of duty.”

He’s still totally buzzy in the head, totally unstable on his feet, and he hasn’t had coffee yet, probably should eat something, but he can’t do anything else, can’t think anything else, he turns off the shower, and maybe he should have rinsed a bit better because as he’s drying he finds soap in his ear, but it doesn’t matter, none of it matters, the only thing that matters is getting to Steve as quickly as he can.

He doesn’t remember the drive, at all, by the time he pulls up in front of Steve’s house. By the time he’s at the door he doesn’t even remember getting out of the car. He bangs on the door, rings the doorbell, and is about to start yelling for Steve when he remembers he has his own key, but as he’s getting it out, trying to figure out how keys even work, Steve opens the door.

He’s still wet from his swim, still in his trunks, he smells like salt and coffee, and he’s probably making something in the kitchen because Danny smells cooking, at least he thinks he does. Right now he’s too busy trying to get his brain to catch up and figure out a surface against which to press Steve so he can kiss him without danger of falling over. He settles for the wall between the living room and the doorway to the kitchen, and he just backs him up, walking into him, walking him forward, and he thinks he sees the moment Steve’s realized what’s coming, sees the flash of awareness, the clicking into place of some new expression—one he’s never seen before yet thinks is so very familiar. And Steve falls back against the wall and lets Danny press into him, his arms coming around Danny in a heartbeat, holding him in a way that feels like they’ve done it before, like they’ve done this a million times before, and the thing is, in a way they have, because they hug and lean against each other all the fucking time and really this is just an extension of that, a completely wonderful extension of what’s always been, and oh god it’s about fucking time, and a kiss, especially a first kiss, has never in the history of kisses been anything even remotely like this. It’s not soft, it’s not tender, it’s not romantic. But it’s not aggressive or violent or passionate either. It’s relief, it’s comfort, it’s pure rightness, and it’s been so fucking long in coming that if it lasted forever it wouldn’t be long enough.

At some point he realizes he’s not breathing and that funny feeling in his head is reaching epic proportions, and he draws back, gasping, and when he does, he sees Steve’s expression, which is rapt and blurry at the same time, although that might just be the lack of oxygen in Danny’s lungs.

“What took you so long?” Steve whispers, hand coming up to cradle the side of Danny’s face, wiping away a tear Danny hadn’t realized he’d shed.

He still can’t breathe, but he grabs Steve by the arms and shoves him hard up against the wall, all his not-inconsiderable force behind that one moment of frustration. “You could have. Any time.” It’s forced out between gritted teeth, which makes the kiss he follows it with on the more aggressive side of things, but when Steve responds with his whole body, Danny just melts to it, and it does turn softer, sweeter, but almost bittersweet because that’s the whole thing now. How did this take so fucking long. And he doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to think about that, doesn’t want to play that game because all that will do is take more time away and everything in his world right now is about making sure they get something, at least something, from this, before the worst can happen and take away what they never even knew they could have.

And it’s that thought that pushes him to it. He hadn’t thought, honestly, hadn’t thought any further than needing to get to Steve, needing to kiss him, but now he’s here, and his mind is whirring, and not doing more would just be stupid and truthfully kind of impossible. It’s painfully obvious Steve’s in exactly the same place he is on this, they’re pressed too tightly together to begin to pretend, so he’s not even going to try. Instead, he does what he can to make it as clear as he can, and Steve, well, Steve’s no dummy, and he seems to almost have been waiting for Danny to start something, so it’s really no surprise when he forces Danny back, absolute fierce look in his eyes, and says “Hold that thought.”

Danny releases him and stands by the wall panting while Steve goes to the kitchen, does something (probably turn off whatever was beginning to burn), then sends a message on his phone, leaving it on the kitchen counter, which doesn’t escape Danny’s notice, that he is choosing to not bring his phone, then he takes Danny by the hand and leads him up the stairs.

Once Steve’s got them in his room, closing the door softly but firmly behind him, the look on his face softens.

“You sure about this?”

Danny’s almost tempted to respond non-verbally, probably by removing Steve’s swimsuit and forcing himself on him. But he doesn’t want there to be any room for doubt.

“I think it’s possible I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life.”

And it’s a simple truth, plainly delivered, and there’s enough of that sleep-deprived-lack-of-filtering still coursing through Danny’s veins—probably he wouldn’t be able to dissemble even if he wanted to. But it’s not any less powerful for its ease or plainness. And if he doubted that, all he’d need to do is look into Steve’s eyes. Because, yeah, Steve’s been waiting. If he’d think about it he’d probably see that Steve’s been waiting for a very long time. And maybe there’s been room for doubt for him, in all that time. Doubt that the inevitable was truly inescapable. But there’s no room now for any of that. And there’s really not a whole lot of room for patience or forbearance, or hesitation, or holding back. Because there’s this overwhelming sense of urgency—no, that’s not strong enough, something more. Utter compulsion, totally driven certainty and need and want and frankly almost desperation.... So Steve simply nods, and steps further into the room, closer to Danny, and Danny doesn’t move. It reminds him of standing at the shore, watching a wave come, trying to guess at how big it will end up being, how strong it will be, how much danger of getting swept under there is. He’s pretty sure he’ll be pulled under by this, swept completely out of reach of the shore, of safety, of the land, of what was before and never can be again—their life before—if they do this. And when Steve reaches him, pushes him back onto the bed, and he is, in fact, totally lost to the world, he thinks, just in that one moment before he goes completely under, that it’s everything he’s ever wanted, all he’s needed, the answer to everything.

Things are a little frantic at first, because clothing seems like an insult, some nefarious thing set on interfering with their intentions. But once that’s out of the way, they slow, and there’s a reverence to their touches, which are soft, gentle, yet claiming. And especially with Steve’s touches to Danny’s chest, Danny thinks there’s an element of _I’ve always known this was mine, and now here it is, in my bed_. Where it belongs. Where we belong. Steve might, Danny realizes, be whispering words to that effect between their kisses, or it might just be that he’s thinking it so loudly Danny can’t help but hear. And he’s known, on some level, he’s always known: that’s how Steve looks at him. As though he’s his, he just hasn’t admitted it yet. And somehow that’s the thought that pushes Danny to take things further. Because this is nice but there will be time for that and more later, but there’s a pressing need that won’t be ignored for much longer and they may as well make as much of it as they can. He thinks he says it out loud, but he’s so focused he’s not really sure. Either way, Steve’s right there with him, and that’s exactly how it all goes—each of them, right exactly there with the other, and it’s as though the whole thing is choreographed, or maybe it’s just that they know each other (and each others’ bodies) so well, so intimately, so thoroughly, there’s simply no room for awkward hesitations or uncertain tentativeness. It’s not forceful or rough, but it is bold and possessive and confident, and as far as first times go, it’s fucking spectacular.

And still, even with all that, Danny thinks that if you asked him, he’d say that it’s after, in the sweaty, sticky, salty mess of everything, resting his head on Steve’s chest (Steve’s glorious chest), that warm, fond, comfortable ease of it... _that_ , he thinks, that’s the best part. Having made it through to here, this place where they’ve finally done it, finally admitted it, finally given in.

They’re both basking in it, hands finding the places they most want to be—Steve’s in Danny’s hair, and Danny’s on Steve’s arm, feeling that solid muscle beneath his hand. There’s no awkward settling into it, they just know. They know too, that this can’t last, that as earth shattering and life altering as this moment is for the two of them, there’s a whole island full of people who have no idea and don’t care in the least, and will think nothing of disrupting their moment of revelatory bliss.

And sure enough, they’ve just drifted off into some hazy space of so-well deserved rest—almost as though sleep, up till now, has been only half the thing it should be—when Danny’s phone, somewhere discarded on the floor, buzzes with urgency.

“Yep,” he manages, guessing that Tani knows something at least, if she’s calling him—presumably after not getting an answer on Steve’s phone because it’s still on the kitchen counter.

“I’m so sorry to force you out, but something’s happened and we really need you guys.”

“Be right there.”

Steve’s groaning beside him, and he pulls Danny back into the bed as though he’s going to deny the team their presence. “They’re going to have to get used to it.”

“Pretty sure they are going to love _this_ , babe,” Danny gestures between them.

“No, I mean, they’re going to have to get used to doing _that_ ,” he waves at the phone, “without us.”

And Danny stills again. All his thoughts about possibilities and things that might change Steve’s path, jamming in his chest, blocking his breath. “You mean that?”

Steve cups Danny’s face again, and already that’s something he’s attached to. “What do you think I’ve been doing, huh? Getting the two of them set, getting them to see they have each other... like I have you.”

And Danny sees it then. His joke about Steve getting them together, using his position to get what he wanted? Yeah. He was. Only.... Tani and Junior weren’t the couple Steve had in mind.

“Well, they seem to think they need us now....” Because that’s a thought Danny wants very much to save for a time he can really make something from it.

Steve sighs, but nods. “Alright, but as soon as that’s done, we’re right back here and take off where we left off.”

“Deal.”

And in Tani’s defense, it really is a Whole Team kind of a day, but she is plainly aware of what she’s interrupted, and makes up for it after by sending them home as soon as they’re done, offering that she and Junior will do the paperwork, which earns her a huge grin from her boss, accompanied unfortunately by the sight of him smacking Danny on the ass and saying “Right, as you were,” and pulling him by the hand out the door at a pace that matches the one he used in the field that day.

“Try not to frighten the kids,” Danny mutters as the door closes behind them, and Steve shuts him up with a kiss.

They grab some food on the way home, more from a practical standpoint of knowing neither of them would last long otherwise, and they both are in rather desperate need of showers, but once those necessities are sorted, they do get back to where they’d left off, and it takes very little to recapture that feeling of contented rightness, which is fortunate because they will be interrupted many times if they continue this. And as they slide further into that rightness, Danny has this need, just a little, to say something, anything, about all of it. Or, maybe more to the point, he has a need to hear something from Steve. Because the touches and the kisses are fantastic, and they do let him know on a very visceral level how Steve feels, but still Danny’s a wordy guy, and having the one without the other isn’t likely to sit well with him forever. But he can’t think of what to say that doesn’t sound either trite (especially in comparison to what they’ve done, how it feels) or painfully, awkwardly forced.

Steve, remarkably, beats him to it. And it’s just a simple statement, an obvious observation, but to Danny, it’s perfect. “You’re in my bed.”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Good.”

And Danny smiles. It’s a little bit more than good, he thinks. Quite a lot bit more.


End file.
